


Yes, Tom - Chapter 8

by riddlemetitillatedhiddles (ninecats)



Series: Yes, Tom [8]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Light Bondage, Rough Sex, Spanking, Subspace, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninecats/pseuds/riddlemetitillatedhiddles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Unfortunately I can't post the link to the article, but if you're confused about the end of the chapter please look up 'subspace' (BDSM) on Wikipedia and then go to the source article at the bottom. It's a pretty good description of what is happening to Ellie. Thanks :)</p></blockquote>





	Yes, Tom - Chapter 8

The next day, I was shell-shocked. It’s not that I wasn’t thrilled that Tom said it. I was. And I  _did_  love him. I did. Things were just moving so fast, and I worried about everything. What Chris said, Tom’s sudden possessiveness, even how he had lied to me.  _God, Ellie, what the fuck? You complain when he doesn’t show feelings and then you complain when he does. What is the matter with you?_ I thought maybe I could try to get some more information. When Tom went out for a run the next morning, I called Chris and we met for breakfast. This time, I was the one with the questions.

”Look, Chris, please don’t tell Tom about this, okay? I just wanted to ask you about some stuff.”

“You don’t think you should ask him?” He raised an eyebrow. I still don’t think he trusted me, not completely anyway.

“Well, I didn’t say anything about last night; it would be nice if you paid me the same courtesy. You brought up some of it anyway.” I didn’t intend for it to come out so… blunt.

He nodded slowly, pensively. “I guess you’re right. What’s up?”

“I care about Tom very much. I… well, I’m in love with him. But I’m a little concerned about what you said. Can you tell me anything about what happened in his last relationship?” I sighed in frustration. I wasn’t even sure what questions I wanted to ask. Where to begin? 

“I can’t tell you much, I don’t want to betray his confidence. But I can say that Tom is incredibly… needy. And he definitely got his heart broken.” He picked absentmindedly at his eggs. “Look, Tom had a rough time when his parents got divorced. When they sent him off to school, he lost a little bit of that sense of trust. It made him a bit desperate for attention. Not just from women, from everyone. Even from me. He needs constant reassurance. Does that make sense?”

“Completely.” I sipped my coffee, thinking back to Tom’s behavior since that first night. It was like he picked me precisely because he thought I’d return his affection. Because he knew I’d make him the center of my universe. I almost wondered if the sexual compatibility issue was an afterthought.  _Did he really pick me because of those stories? Or did he pick me because I was vulnerable?_  

“Do you know if Tom has ever been… well, possessive?” The moment I said it I wished I hadn’t. 

“Not that I know of. Insecure, yeah. But no, I’ve never seen him act possessive. Is he like that with you?” Suddenly Chris looked much less judgmental and much more concerned. I felt horrible. I didn’t want him to think Tom was some asshole. The truth was I didn’t know what to think. He _was_  becoming more and more possessive, but he had warned me. What gave me the right to be angry about it when he was clear from the beginning about what he wanted? He had rules. If I didn’t like them, I should be strong enough to tell him as such.

My phone went off, causing me to jump. Tom of course. I hadn’t left a note, hadn’t texted or phoned, and hadn’t asked permission. I just thought I had more time. Usually when he went running he was gone longer. I knew he’d be livid. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid.

“Thank you, Chris, really. It means a lot that you talked to me. I have to go.” I grabbed my things as quickly as I could and got ready to leave.

“Keeps you on a short leash, eh?” He looked even more concerned now.

“No, I just, well I didn’t leave a note or anything. See you tomorrow!” I smiled warmly hoping he wouldn’t read too much into anything I said. I texted Tom back, telling him I had gone out to get breakfast and asking if he wanted anything. The text I got back read simply, “No.” Luckily, the coffee shop was within walking distance of the hotel, so it didn’t take long. Even still, I hurried as fast as I could. I knew he was angry, it was obvious. I should have left a note. Something.

 

 

“Where were you?” Clad only in boxers, his dripping wet curls falling across his forehead, he looked so beautiful. The contrast was arresting, his physical beauty and that underlying rage building. I wasn’t even sure what to say. I didn’t want him to know I talked to Chris.  _Shit_. This was a disaster. 

“I told you sweetheart, I went to get breakfast, since you were on a run. I texted you right back.” I tried to brush it off casually, as if I didn’t even notice he was upset. 

“Elizabeth.” I could hear it, I knew. He stood in front of me, unmoving, his piercing eyes causing my stomach to clench and my clitoris to throb.  _Oh god, no. Oh god, yes._

I lowered my head and kept my eyes down. “Yes, sir.” Not a question, more of a relinquishing of any further attempt to avoid the inevitable. And then I added, “I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.” The way he said it, almost no emotion whatsoever, flat. He didn’t need to make it a threat; it was a  _promise_. He pointed to the floor, “Kneel. Hands behind your back, forehead to the floor.”

I didn’t look up, avoiding his eyes. Honestly, it was incredibly terrifying to have to walk past him. I glanced over as I tiptoed by and I could see his fist clenched in anger. But he didn’t move, and I dropped to the floor to await my fate. 

He walked into the bedroom and didn’t come back for at least 10 minutes. At first, I thought he might just make me stay put all day. I couldn’t decide which was worse, being left there or whatever punishment he could think up. I was always sore, but today I was particularly tender. I thought momentarily I wouldn’t mind having a ‘time out’. Wishful thinking.

“Stand up, face the wall.” It was unsettling, really. His voice was so… devoid of anything. No anger, nothing. I stood up, my legs already uneasy. I couldn’t read him at all right now, and seriously, that scared the fuck out of me. “Take off all your clothes and your shoes.”

Slipping out of my shoes, I pulled my dress over my head, letting it drop to the floor. Then I took off my bra and panties. As soon as I stood up he pulled me by the hair, back down to the ground, holding my head to the floor. “You have been a very bad girl, Elizabeth.” The second the words left his mouth, I felt it. The cold sensation of leather against my skin, a precursor really, just a touch. Tom’s way of saying ‘Feel this? This is the riding crop I’m going to hit you with, and it’s going to hurt like hell, darling’. Only a couple of seconds before the actual strike connected… It was actually the sound first, the whoosh when the crop met air resistance. Then it hit my skin with a little pop. The ensuing burn, radiating through my body. The acute pain, the rush of endorphins, the blood rushing between my legs. 

“Fuck!” The word was so much louder than I had imagined, it just slipped out of my mouth before I could think.  _When did he even get a fucking riding crop?_

“Shut your mouth, Elizabeth. I am not in the mood for your defiance. I  _will_ gag you.” He spoke the words sharply, and I could hear the underlying sneer. He swatted me again, then again, pushing my cheek against the floor. 

There was no way he seriously thought I could be quiet. Each one was so painful, my entire backside already raw and aching, now inflamed even worse. The whimpers would just escape, no matter how hard I bit my lip, no matter how much I concentrated, no matter that my mouth was clenched shut, I could not prevent the sounds. They seeped out of me.

Suddenly he let go and stood up. “Stay.” He disappeared for another 5 or 10 minutes. It seemed like much longer, but I doubt it really was. I cowered on the floor, hoping against hope he would not actually gag me. 

When he reappeared, he ordered me to stand, so I did. He was behind me, and I could feel his eyes on my body. I felt violated, in a way. He usually talked more, acted more. This time was different. This time he seemed to be relishing it in a new and different way. 

“Arms behind your back.” I did, and he grabbed them, pulling me towards him violently. His face against my cheek, I could feel his breath against my skin. Even. Not hurried, not labored. He then stepped back, tying my wrists together snuggly with a nylon rope. “Open your mouth.”

_Fuck._  I dreaded being gagged and he had never actually done it before. Threatened, but never followed through. “Please, Tom, don’t gag me, please.” My voice barely registered, as I knew it was futile. I should have stayed quiet. I began to cry. Tom didn’t say a word, just paused for one second, waiting for me to say anything else. I didn’t tell him to stop. I deserved it. I didn’t just break the rules, I lied to him, too. And that part he didn’t even know about. 

“Open your mouth,” he repeated impassively. I parted my lips, so slowly, the tears rolling over my cheeks and into my mouth. He placed the gag, a folded tie actually, in my mouth, tying it carefully around the back of my head. Not tightly, really. Not enough to truly stop any noises.

That wasn’t the point. He knew I didn’t like it, and he knew I would beg him not to, and we both knew he would do it anyway. That was the point. To hear me beg.

Pushing me over the arm of the sofa, he kicked my legs apart. My whimpers muffled but audible. I could hear him, finally, start to quicken his breathing. Then, one finger, pushing so slowly into me. I was so wet I could barely feel it at first. 

“Oh sweetheart. I’m going to fuck you senseless. You know that right? But not quite yet.” He smacked my ass with his hand, quick, efficient. I writhed against the uncomfortable couch, straining against my restraints. “You look perfect right now. Tears rolling down your cheeks, utterly bound, your body on display, open for me to use in any way I see fit. Exquisite.” I could hear him exhale slowly. 

He leaned between my legs, rubbing his cock up against me but not entering. Teasing. “Elizabeth… you make my cock so hard. When I see you like this, so vulnerable,” he smacked me again, harder, and I squealed beneath the gag, choking on my sobs. “Oh yes,” the lust weighting his voice down, it sounded so tender, the way he said it. He smacked me again with his hand, then pushed two fingers into me. The rhythm so slow it drove me wild as I shifted my hips, begging voicelessly for him to fuck me. 

This time he reached down and got the crop, whipping me viciously, at least four or five times in a row. “Stop moving your hips. You aren’t getting any release today anyway.” His voice cold this time. This was not about me. 

Finally he began to push into me, barely, a little at a time. Halfway in, he pulled back out again. I had hardly even twitched. He got the crop. “I could leave you like this for hours, darling. If you don’t stop moving, you won’t be untied before night.” 

He kept repeating the process. Thrusting into me halfway, but not entering completely, then pulling back out. Then he’d get the crop, and whip me again. Over and over he did this, barely fucking me then hitting me relentlessly. And he hardly made a sound. I could only hear these occasional exhaled grunts, barely audible, so controlled. 

I didn’t move. I swear I didn’t. But he still stopped again, pulling out and getting the crop. Again.  _Fucking god, Tom, please…_  “You’d better not move,” he announced as he started to hit me. Then another, harder and harder each time. He did it much longer this time, not stopping at three or four, but continuing. At about twelve lashes I began to shake, I couldn’t control it. He still didn’t stop. I was convulsing, choking on my sobs. Agony. I could barely feel the skin on my buttocks, only a burning numbness. Finally, I began to disconnect from it, and I went relatively limp. My mind wasn’t processing it anymore, and I just… left.

The second my whole body slackened, Tom reached down, tenderly undoing my gag, smoothing the tears from my cheeks. “There you are, Elizabeth, perfectly undone.” He then entered me, gently but quickly. I didn’t cry anymore, didn’t hurt, didn’t think, just sort of floated there peacefully as he fucked me. After he came, he untied my hands and helped me to the bed. I laid there on my stomach as he rubbed my back and kissed my forehead. Finally, after some time, I began to cry again. He leaned down to me and whispered in my ear, “I love you, Elizabeth. You are my perfect girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately I can't post the link to the article, but if you're confused about the end of the chapter please look up 'subspace' (BDSM) on Wikipedia and then go to the source article at the bottom. It's a pretty good description of what is happening to Ellie. Thanks :)


End file.
